Oasis Cycle
by falsechaos
Summary: [yaoi] [fredgene] Our favorite outlaw is stranded in space with our favorite merchant.
1. Paradise Lost and Oasis Found

Title: Oasis Cycle ch 1: "Paradise Lost and Oasis Found"  
Author: falsechaos  
Email: falsechaos@mail.com  
Rating/Warning: Big, fat lemon warning. Yaoi. Give it an R.  
Notes: Formerly posted under alias of "Ayame Daae." Account got eaten. Account lay dormant for over a year. [shrugs] New account.  
The man that appeared at their doorstep was dressed in a nondescript suit. He was of that bland faced type who could disappear unnoticed in a large crowd. He was of no extraordinary tallness or shortness. His build was slim, but not skinny; well-built, but not bulky. He said his name was Jones. That too would soon fade into the whispers of their memory.  
  
"So what kind of problem are we talking about here, Mr. Jones?"  
  
"A group of pirates known as the Berai have kidnapped an important weapons dealer. They felt that he cut into their territory a tad too often without offering the appropriate amount for their 'protection' This man was my employer. I have been authorized to offer up to 140,000 wong for his return. An additional 60,000 will be awarded if he is returned unharmed within the next forty-eight hours."  
  
The deal was too good to be true. 200,000 wong for a simple rescue mission. The Berai were renowned mainly as pests in the Heifong system. They offered weapons of high price and questionable quality. Nevertheless, they were tolerated in the system. This was mainly due to the fact that they were too small of a group to challenge either the pirates or space authorities and occasionally proved useful to both. Truly, a simple target. A small display of force, a few weapons fired, and perhaps five minutes of tough talk from the Outlaw Star.  
  
That, of course, was what had lead Gene Starwind to his current predicament.  
  
"If you don't shut up, Fred Luo, I swear I'll use my last caster shell to plaster your brains all over this flying coffin's pathetic excuse for interior decor!"  
  
"You wouldn't do that, now would you, Gene? Gene? Please stop staring at me like that. It's quite unsettling. Gene!? Mmph!!"  
  
Gene Starwind knew of the source that caused his fear of deep space. That was no mystery to him. Floating alone for 20 days in the dark depths of space in a life pod only meant for two weeks use would be enough to curdle anyone's brains, however temporarily. In those dark times, he had prayed for any company, any *thing* to tear his mind from the vast canvas that threatened to overwhelm his young mind. Anyone. Anything. Just to stop that terrible and blinding eternity from ripping into his painfully mortal and finite mind.  
  
He realized now (with a breed of painful mental smirk) that perhaps that hadn't been such a bad deal after all.  
  
Being trapped alone in space with Fred Luo was not Gene's idea of hell.  
  
It was becoming frightfully close, however.  
  
Gene slumped bonelessly against the side of the life support pod. Two people. In a machine only meant to support a single inhabitant. Already three days had passed. Even to Gene Starwind's limited ability to think logically towards the future, this was not good. At all. Three days of cramped weightlessness in a pod that barely allowed the two of them to remain upright at the same time. Three days of listening to Fred Luo spill his guts in a family history that never seemed to end. Three days of 'accidental' contacts and jostlings in regions of the outlaw's body that even *he* wasn't that familiar with. In short, three days of nonstop Fred Luo.  
  
A few precious moments of golden silence passed. Fred huddled against the opposite side of the pod, torn between glowering at the outlaw and whimpering through the import gag stuffed into his mouth. Perhaps an hour passed before Gene removed the ripped piece of cloth. Fred opened and closed his jaw soundlessly for a few moments, trying to work saliva back into his dry mouth.  
  
"You just could have *asked*," he grumbled after a few moments more of silence.  
  
Gene glared at him once again. "I've asked, pleaded, begged, bargained, and demanded that you change the subject, talk quietly, talk to yourself, or just plain *shut up*. I had to have silence. Okay? Or is that too hard to understand?"  
  
"You're acting as though it's my fault we're out here."  
  
"It *is* your fault! If you hadn't have run directly into this damned thing when the pirate ship began the self-destruct sequence, we wouldn't be sitting here, now would we!?"  
  
"Well actually, we're floating, not sitting."  
  
Once again, Gene fondled his remaining caster shell with a most unpleasant gleam in his eyes.  
  
Fred fell silent for a few blessed moments. "Gene, I think we should drop the shielding for a few minutes. Just to see if anyone is out there."  
  
The rust-haired outlaw stared at Fred. The abrupt change in conversation threw him off. He swallowed. "I can't go through that again. I'm sorry, Fred. I can't."  
  
The life pod held an automatic distress beacon that began a nonstop SOS broadcast at the moment the unit was activated. Five distress flares were represented by five round red buttons on the northern wall. The opaque shielding that clouded the viewing window prevented the two occupants from gazing out into the depths of space. Unfortunately, this minor protection had to be lowered before the flares could be used. Four of those five flares were gone. Four hours of Gene's precious sanity had flared and vanished with them.  
  
"We have to." Fred paused, his voice caught in his throat. "Or we'll die."  
  
The outlaw's only response was to squeeze his eyes shut. He didn't even have the simple luxury of turning from the viewing portal. "Do it." The words were ground out of his throat like the bitterest wheat.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Just do it!" His voice was a harsh scream.  
  
Fred pressed the remaining button that held the only hope for both of their salvation. The flare ejected forcefully from the life pod, flinging the pod from its already unstable trajectory in space into a whirlwind tumble. The opaque shield on the viewing window slammed down. Gene gasped at the sudden change in position, eyes flaring open instinctively.  
  
Cold space stared back in at him.  
  
The stars wheeled and spun around in a vicious arc. The cloying smell of cramped bodies in a cramped space vanished, leaving behind only the cold, metallic scent of ether. All sense of contact with his body was severed in one sweeping motion. He was flung, mind and soul, into the dark belly of space. Spacer's glamour. That rare, out-of-body experience that could accompany long periods of time in space. The callous stars continued their siren call to all sentient life, uncaring of the danger of that lulling song. Gene could hear (feel, sense, what remained?) the vibrations through what was left of his being. This terrible, aching hollowness.  
  
The outlaw struggled to scream, but how could he? He had no body. No lungs to draw in stale and recycled air. No throat to issue forth the cry of outrage and despair. No mouth to the shape the words of terror and denial that burned within (or was it without?) him. No mouth to feel the firm lips pressed against his own, locked into a gallow's embrace. No body to feel the hard frame shoved against his own, or the burning need surging through his veins.  
  
Reality returned sluggishly. The deep reptile part of his brain responded immediately to the abrupt change in stimulus, opening his jaws to allow a warm, slick tongue to dart into his mouth. Part of his mind was still screaming at that stars, while his hips thrust frantically against the warm body pressed close to him. Stars, screaming at him, warmth, returning to him. It collided within him. Burned. Torn between the cold, dead glare of space. Torn between the hard, aching need building within. Sight returned and Starwind saw dark and glossy hair. He saw the wiry body pressed against his own. He saw his own hands clenched in a death's grip about the other man in the pod.  
  
Gene moved as far away as he could. Only a bare half-step. Not enough. He stared at the other man. Fred's face was flushed with desire and his eyes glittered in the darkness of the pod.  
  
"Wha--" the outlaw blurted out stupidly.  
  
Fred at least had the decency to look away for a moment. He reached with a slender, trembling hand towards the twin scars that snaked across the outlaw's face. His palm fit perfectly into the hollow of Gene's cheek. "You were out of it for almost four hours. You've never been out of it this long." Fred removed his hand awkwardly and gestured towards the glowing red numbers that hung suspended in front of the viewing window. Four hours, fifteen minutes, and thirty-nine seconds. "I did the only thing I could think of to bring you back." Fred smiled. It was the same flirtatious and oddly innocent smile that had both angered and unnerved Starwind on numerous occasions. "It seems to have worked, right?"  
  
Anger surged throughout Gene's body and threatened to overwhelm him for a moment. Before he could voice any of the swirling, chaotic thoughts tumbling through his mind, he caught sight of the viewing portal again. The remaining traces of arousal that burned within him took control before the panic could take hold. He pressed himself desperately against Fred. "Please." The word was hoarse and desperate. "Please, don't let me fall. Not out there again. Please."  
  
Gene felt gentle lips press towards his own. He clung to Fred, his hands slipping and scrabbling along the other man's back for purchase. Fred rubbed gentle fingers into Gene's scalp and traced down the outlaw's spine. Gene arched into the caress and felt the welcome and familiar mating haze settle about his mind.  
  
This was nothing like making love to a woman. No gentle curves, or soft mounds of flesh. No sacred blossom to tease into ecstasy. No long hair to tangle his fingers into. Was he the aggressor now? Or the one pursued? Did it matter? No. Now there were firm planes of muscle that needed his touch. Now there were strong hands that unerringly sought out the sensitive places of his flesh. Now there was a burning hardness that pressed urgently against his own. So alien. So familiar. And so very needed.  
  
Somehow, in the cramped confines of the life pod, clothes were ripped off or shed in some other way. Flesh sought out flesh. Fred's hand was clamped almost possessively around their two erections. This was no gentle love making; this was pure rutting, pure need to be satisfied. One denied by emotion, the other denied by darkest fear. Their hips bucked and thrust against that of the other's. Slick lengths rubbed and caressed in that most intimate of embraces.  
  
Oh, to be tangled in the flesh.  
  
Gene cried out, agony and ecstasy flaring open brighter than any of the stars, brighter than any burning desire that had ever haunted his heart. He crushed his mouth against Fred's, anything to stifle his own panting cries. Fred pulled away roughly and bit deep into Gene's shoulder with uncharacteristic agressiveness. Marking the outlaw. Branding him.  
  
The two curled around the other. They let the proofs of their exertions dry on their naked bodies. Fred and Gene twined about one another in an embrace more intimate than any shared by twins in the womb. They slept as the outline of the Outlaw Star grew in the distance. 


	2. Collision Courses and Shoulder Scars

Title: Oasis Cycle ch 2: "Collision Courses and Shoulder Scars"  
Author: falsechaos  
Email: falsechaos@mail.com  
Rating/Warning: PG-13. Much tamer than the first. But it has more of a plot. ^_^  
Notes: Formerly posted under alias "Ayame Daae." Account got eaten. Ayame died quietly in her sleep and falsechaos took over her body. Old stories now posted in new account. Goodie.  
  
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The coarseness of the blankets startled him. He rolled a fold of the fabric between educated fingers. Cotton. Untreated. He opened his eyes a bare slit and winced at the sudden presence of light. Dull brown. It kept him warm and held no pretenses at doing anything else. Functional. Utilitarian. In short, nothing he would go near knowingly. So there for, he was not in his mansion or at any respectable hotel that he could remember. So where was he? Metallic walls gleamed dully at him. The familiar queer tug at his sternum told of artificial gravity. Metallic walls. Artificial gravity. A ship. In space.  
  
Space. Some small animal portion of his brain luxuriated in the feeling of free movement, in the scent of clean clothing and clean sheets. Space. To stretch. To move. He didn't have to worry about bumping into someone. But where was that other someone? Where was the person he was supposed to be alternately cursing and pining for? An empty space.  
  
What's with this space thing? he wondered to himself. Space, space, space. Something important about space. The strange paradox of sudden appearance and sudden absence of. Space to move. No space staring back. No space staring back....  
  
"Gene!" Fred yelped the name and jerked upright. The sudden change in position made his head spin. He groaned and placed the palm of his hand on his forehead. Where was he? The silence in the small room made him uneasy. Fred swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He yelped again ("Eeagh!") as the soles of his feet came into contact with the cold metal of the floor.  
  
The young merchant shivered. Cold in the ship. Goosepimples sprung up on his flesh. Fred looked around for something to cover himself with. Nothing much beside the blanket. And the tight black underwear he was currently wearing.... He plucked nervously at the waistband of the tight shorts. Nothing he would wear. Fred wrapped the blanket around his shivering shoulders. So.... He was on a ship. In someone else's bed. Wearing someone else's shorts.  
  
He paused momentarily, musing. Fred started to snicker to himself. Gene's shorts. He was on Gene's ship, wearing Gene's shorts. He furrowed his brow. So where was the outlaw himself? And what had happened? Something tugged at his mind. A trace memory opened softly at the edge of his mind. -Flesh on flesh, the sacred sound of his beloved gasping his name....- He shook his head. Vivid dreams. It must have something to do with.... with....  
  
"Space, of course. It always comes back to space," he said bitterly to himself. Fred sighed softly, frustrated. He tugged nervously at his earlobe. A puffy blank spot in his memory. He could remember all of the current 365 accounts that were open for transaction. He could remember the names of the children of his 50 personal bodyguards. Nasty puffy blank spot. He was trained to remember any of a thousand seemingly insignificant details. He had to, with his business. So what was with this blank spot? No, not a blank spot, not really. More of a blurring of memory. It was there. He could poke and prod the nagging half-memory much like one would poke and prod an empty tooth socket in the mouth. Something was supposed to be there. It would return in a while, but the waiting was annoying.  
  
The door opened easily to Fred's hand. He stepped out into the narrow hallway of the Outlaw Star. His bare feet made only a soft padding as he walked unsteadily towards the bridge of the ship. Perhaps Gene would know what happened. Unlikely, given the outlaw's notoriously short attention span, but Gene had something to do with that annoying half-memory floating around in his skull. Fred tugged at the black shorts as he half-stumbled, half-tottered down the hallway. He stopped suddenly. He stared at the shorts as though some sort of parasite had attached itself about his hips. Thoughts jarred suddenly in his brain. How did I know these were.... I mean I've never seen Gene in his shorts, much as I'd like to, so how.... Fred shook his head. Gene would know.  
  
He hoped.  
  
Fred stepped out onto the bridge of the ship. Suzuka sat at the left side console, typing in coordinates and speaking with a quiet Gilliam. Fred cleared his throat nervously and the assassin turned to look him cooly in the eyes. "Erm, Miss Suzuka, where would Gene be?"  
  
He noticed a slight tug at the corner of her lips. Was she trying not to smile? "He is still sleeping. Aisha and Jim are restocking supplies that we purchased at a nearby station. Melfina is preparing breakfast." Suzuka rose and brushed nonexistent dust off of her immaculate kimono. "Did you rest well, Fred Luo?"  
  
"Yes." He paused a moment, uncertain. "That is, I think I did." He smiled a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and pressed his hand to the back of his head. "So.... what happened?"  
  
Suzuka tipped the corners of her lips in a small, private smile. "Perhaps I am not the one you should be asking." She turned back to the computer console, the conversation terminated in her mind.  
  
Fred shivered. Even when being perfectly cordial, the woman gave him the creeps. He nodded tensely and walked off the bridge. He could hear gentle laughter and the electronic voice of the ship's AI behind him. He walked down the hallway, steadier now, and opened a random door. Supply closet. Nope. Another door. Empty bedroom. Next. Kitchen. Close enough.  
  
"Fred!" Melfina looked up from the steaming pot in front of her and smiled. "Did you sleep well?" She laughed delicately, small roses of red forming on her cheeks. Melfina brushed a brown lock of hair away from her face. An expression of unexpected (but not quite unwelcome....) surprise fixed on her face like an exquisite mask of white jade.  
  
"Well enough, I suppose." Fred sat down at the table, gratefully accepting the steaming mug of tea she handed him. He sipped cautiously at the brown liquid, uncertain of its quality. The merchant's eyes widened slightly with pleasure and he sipped again, relishing the feeling of warmth returning to his body. He looked up to question Melfina about it, when he saw again the mask of bemused surprise stuck on her face. Fred put the mug down slowly, forcing himself through civil motions. She knew something that he didn't. Why that normally wouldn't bother him, her acting like he knew when he didn't was starting to annoy him. "Yes?" he asked to her smiling face.  
  
"Nothing," the navigator replied, hiccuping slightly from the restrained laughter. "Really, Fred. Nothing."  
  
Fred frowned and turned his attention back to the tea. Silly girl. He really couldn't see what Gene saw in her. Yes, she was sweetly naive and had a delicate kindness.... But really, delicate was not Gene's type. Fred smiled ruefully at that slight turn of thoughts. Of course, how would he know? Countless advances shot down with a word of brutal kindness or a look of quiet desperation. Fred turned the now empty mug 'round and 'round in his hands. Curiouser and curiouser. Indeed.  
  
Melfina had turned away from Fred and moved her attention back to the steaming pot in front of her. He breathed a slight sigh of relief. Deciphering the girl's odd new behavior wasn't really what he wanted to focus on at the moment. He turned his attention, instead, to that nagging spot in his memory. Bits and pieces came back to him as he sat.  
  
-The growing fear of his friend's sharp stillness. Sudden desperation to make him respond, any way, it didn't matter, as long as he was still there.... A bitter desire fulfilled in the depths of space and some new hurt and longing put in its place. Eyes of darkest brown, snapping back into reality, staring back into his own, hungry and desperate with desire and need. Oh, those eyes....-  
  
Melfina's voice brought him from the brink of discovery. He sighed in annoyance and turned to see the one she spoke to. Gene stood in the doorway, dressed only in (Surprised Fred? Didn't think so.... the merchant thought with vague panic) tight blank shorts. Starwind grunted a vague series of monosyllables at Melfina and sat down with a huff next to Fred. Melfina smiled that same smile of barely contained mirth and put another, similar, mug of hot tea in front of the outlaw.  
  
Fred tensed slightly at the unexpected proximity of Gene Starwind. Why should I tense? I *do* know something.... he thought again with the same slight panic. Fred forced himself to relax.   
  
"I need to.... that is, perhaps I should help with...." Melfina stood, helpless for the moment, before breaking off into peals of laughter. She left the kitchen with her shoulders shaking.  
  
Fred turned a helpless look on Gene. "What is she talking about? Gene?" He blinked and poked the outlaw in the shoulder. Gene's only response was to slump over onto the merchant, snoring softly. The mug of tea in front of him went untouched. Starwind muttered something under his breath and (He isn't, he isn't! Is he...? Yes, he is, he is...!) nuzzled closer to him. Fred's breath caught in his throat. He sat for a few startled moments, the outlaw's head resting on his shoulder.  
  
He moved slowly. He had to take care not to startle the young man out of his slumber. Fred hoisted the still snoring outlaw up, a firm hand gripped about his arms, and drug him towards the room where Fred had awakened. Gene's only response as they awkwardly navigated the narrow hallway was to grunt softly at those times when he was propped against a convenient wall.  
  
The bed seemed to sing a gentle siren song, even with the coarse sheets. Fred lowered Gene gently to the bed. The outlaw snorted and curled around a pillow. Fred sat there for a moment, staring at the scarred form of his friend. Hesitantly, he reached a slender hand toward a scar that marred his friend's left shoulder blade.  
  
"Three years ago. Sentinel III's primary spaceport." He spoke softly, and with a quiet tenderness. "You took a shot that was meant for me. You didn't yell or scream. You just took it with quiet grunt of pain. You shoved me out of the way and shot the assassin. I think that's when I fell in love with you. You didn't know who I was. *What* I was. But you took the pain that was meant for me...." Gene slept on, punctuating the near silence with small snores. "No one's ever done that. Not without wanting something in return. Even the second time I hired you. Or the third. You expected payment, but you wanted to see me survive first.... I can't tell you what that means to me."  
  
A yawn split Fred's faint smile in half and stretched his mouth into a wide, round O. He laid down next to Gene and fumbled for a blanket. "Just for a few minutes. Then I'll go."  
  
He was still there an hour later. 


End file.
